


Without Timber Burn

by tsukara (AndThenTheresAnne)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: BriCree - Freeform, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-07 07:38:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17956361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndThenTheresAnne/pseuds/tsukara
Summary: A collection of BriCree/McBaguette smut--the bits not set during the story of "You're a Bright Light, You're a Fistfight" anyway. Some are based on prompts, others just for fun.





	1. Only You and The Devil

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: “If we get caught I’m blaming you”

Jesse McCree was a damn fool, and he knew it too, but even he wasn’t fool enough to say no when Brigitte shoved him up against the wall outside the workshop and started fumbling with his belt buckle.

“Heh-hey there,” he laughed unsteadily. 

Brigitte grinned, turning it into a kiss, her hands busy still. “Hi.” Buckle undone, jeans unbuttoned, a thumb sliding down the zipper and he broke away from her with a groan. Her hands slowed, her grin still wicked and simmering. 

Several thoughts flew through his head, each one chased off quicker than the last. Here was temptation in front of him, all sparkling eyes and mischief. He’d be a fool to resist it, even if he wanted to.

Brigitte, not hearing a no and not seeing a non-verbal one either, pressed back into him with another kiss, sliding her hand into his jeans, palming him, giving a pleased hum of a laugh at his wordless groan. She slid a second hand down, hooking fingers into his waistband and drawing them down just enough to free his already hardening cock from its confinement. Her hands on him was all he needed to get to this point.

The edge of a wicked grin was all the warning he got before she was going down to her knees in front of him. “Bri--” He choked off the sound of her name as she pressed lips to the tip of his cock. She had the audacity to laugh, just a low, little thing, and he groaned, tipping his head back against the wall.

“If we get caught, I’m blamin you,” he informed her, voice already unsteady.

“Alright.” She grinned up at him through her lashes, entirely unrepentant, before starting to use her mouth on him really properly. 

One hand of McCree’s was braced against the wall, the other resting on her head. And then she did that thing with her tongue and he had to bite off a groan that would’ve gotten too loud with a muffled curse instead, covering his mouth with the hand not steadying him.

This time, when she hummed a laugh, he felt it all through him, and swore again. “Bri, Copperhead, I’m-- I’m not gonna last.”

It was warning and question all in one. She responded with that twist of her hand and that thing she did with her tongue and he came before he could stop himself, a ghost of a shout, stifled by his hand again. She swallowed down every drop, finally releasing his cock from her lips with a slight pop. She stood, wiping her mouth with her fingers, which did nothing to erase the blush across her cheeks.

Her hands were just as deft tucking and zipping and generally putting his pants back together. The rest of him was, well. Between his heaving breath and mussed hair--and how had he kept his hat on anyway?--he was a little bit wrecked. Brigitte was grinning, melting into him with a kiss. “Hey.”

“Hey there.” He wrapped an arm around her to steady himself. “What was that for?” He knew she’d been working all day, had been doing something with hot metal and sparks, but nothing that would explain this, as far as he could tell.

She laughed, bell bright. “I felt like it. You can always repay me later,” she suggested cheekily.

He laughed too, low and satisfied. “I may do just that.”


	2. Trouble Doesn’t Keep a Civil Score

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "You're so fucking hot when you're mad."

It had been so stupid, running out like that, taking that shot with her flail just on the edge of her range. But it was the first thing she had thought of to do and, besides, she had made it out unscathed, save for the ricochet off her armor. The way he had yelled, the way he’d grabbed her, pulling her down, eyes burning with anger at her risk--she had wanted to take him right there in the field, bullets flying and all. Adrenaline really was a hell of a drug. 

She’d managed to keep it together til they’d gotten back to the safehouse though. Or, rather, he had. The second the door closed he had slammed her up against it even as she pulled him close. Brigitte hadn’t even minded when he’d dropped the chestpiece of her armor on the ground after ripping it off of her, her own fumbling fingers helping with the catches. Her armor had survived worse before, after all. His kisses were rough, desperate, devouring. “Dammit, Bri,” He grasped the hair at the base of her neck, pulling her back from kissing him to glare at her. 

She grinned back at him, unrepentant. “You're so hot when you're mad.” 

Just as she'd thought, this served to make him even more angry. The next kiss was bruising, and she arched into him, parting lips to his.

Under the anger, she knew there was a fear, some deep terror at the idea of losing her, but as long as he was expressing it like this she wasn't going to examine things too closely.

He made quick work of the rest of her armor. She pushed aside the fleeting thought of all the cleanup she'd have to do later because his hand, the metal one, was inside her pants, pressing up into her where she was already wet. She gasped, hips pushing into him, seeking friction. “Ah, Jesse, fuck…” It was a request, more than anything.

His answer was a wordless growl, and he pulled away from her. Brigitte opened her eyes with a sound that was closer to a whine than she'd like to admit, but then his hands were on her again, yanking cloth and anything else still in his way off of her body, pulling her leg up against him. He slid into her with no resistance, and she gave a wordless cry, clutching at the poncho still draped over his shoulders, holding on.

“Don’t you ever,” every word was punctuated with a thrust of his hips up into her, pinning her against the door, hitting some good spot deep within her. “Ever. Pull a stunt like that. Again.”

It took Brigitte a few breathless moments before she got out anything other than a pleased gasp or moan. “And, ah, if I do?”

She shouldn't tease him, she knew, but with Jesse's eyes looking like they could burn her up on the spot and his rough, desperate moving against her, inside of her, everywhere, she did. If he answered, she couldn't make sense of it, tipping over the edge with a shout, clinging to him as she rode out her orgasm. His relentless rhythm didn't slow until he came too, spilling himself into her.

Holding her up against the door like this wasn't a sustainable option, so--all too soon, for her taste--he had slipped out of her, leaving her leaning up against the door, watching him with her dark, dark eyes as he tucked his spent member back into his jeans.

“Jesse.” He looked up at her, that anger and the fear that it covered still simmering close to the surface. “I-I'm sorry.”

The anger faded, and he kissed her again, slow and sweet, all forgiveness. “Yeah, well.” He gave a breathless laugh, touching his forehead to hers, his hat tilted back, nearly falling off his head “Just next time don't scare me like that.”

Brigitte smiled, kissed him as sweet as he had, then pushed him away to start cleaning up after themselves. 

He even helped her put away her armor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The very first piece of BriCree smut I ever wrote, bless its little heart.


End file.
